


Ouroboros

by AngryJusticePineapple



Category: Half-Life
Genre: Angst, Character Development, Character Study, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Gore, Long-Distance Relationship, Minor Canonical Character(s), Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, Other, Time Travel, Violence, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24094489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryJusticePineapple/pseuds/AngryJusticePineapple
Summary: Set after the events of Half Life: Alyx. It was just another boring workday for the G-man: all he had to do was follow his Employers' orders. Show up at a specific space at a specific time, do the deed, and move on. Too bad that he underestimated his current target.
Relationships: The G-man/Original Female Character
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. First Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you! Yes, you anon! Please leave a comment at the end? It's not hard for you and I would be really happy:) Would you do that for me, bro?

The bureaucrat stood in an abandoned shed. The shed stood in the middle of what used to be a wheat field, far remote from the civilization. Complete silence except for an occasional bird chirp -- just how the G-man preferred it. He enjoyed solitude more than anything, and, sadly, it was a disappearing commodity these days. He had exactly 3 minutes 40 seconds until his break was over.

He shuffled across the asphalt, hearing a satisfying crunch of tiny stones grinding under his Oxfords. Kicked some tumbleweed out of the way. Stopped and took a deep breath, relishing that peculiar smell of spring.

That disgusting sun poured the sunshine all over the barren landscape. It made his head hurt just to look at it for too long -- why does this planet have to be so close to its star?

His next assignment was going to be difficult. Not difficult in a technical sense -- no, he had plenty of experience in combat against worthier foes, not to mention having telekinesis at his disposal to cause extensive brain lesions and hypoxia. 

It was simply difficult to convince himself to kill. Being a direct cause of some entity’s death was something the G-man tried to avoid at all costs. There was something indescribably morbid about terminating the non-Combine entities, even if it was in his Employers’ interests. 

That is why he ended up using Ms. Vance and Dr. Freeman to pursue the common good. Half of their tasks he could have accomplished himself but he hated to get his hands dirty like that. Sadly, he was the only one fit for accomplishing his current assignment. 

2 minutes 55 seconds. 

He could already see his target approaching the shed. She clearly lived off of nothing but adrenaline injections for days, judging by her awkward gait and flailing limbs. The woman stumbled through the dead grass with admirable determination. He observed her pathetic jog, briefly wondering how she managed to carry that grenade launcher all the way from the City-15. It was no matter -- her efforts were destined to go to waste, anyway. 

The government man wished he had a cigarette. The target’s name was Sasha Sokolova, and from what he gathered, she used to spend her time delivering supplies to various Resistance groups in the area. That is, until the Combine dragged her to the Citadel on one of her past errands. She would have been just another Stalker by now -- or, she, logically, should have been. Not a day later she was seen leaving the Citadel in one piece and heading to the Resistance camp.

His Employers were suspicious of anything that left the Citadel. Ms. Sokolova could not escape on her own. Nothing left that place unaltered in some way. It was necessary to put her out of her misery and avoid more deaths, despite how difficult it was to see her as anything other than a mere human. 

1 minute 32 seconds. 

She was getting closer. The G-man stepped further into the shadows, away from the sunlight. It wouldn’t be right to terminate that entity at a distance, too cowardly for someone like him.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

At last, Sokolova reached the shed. It looked so welcoming from afar -- there was no shelter from the merciless sun out in the field, and she dreamed of relaxing in the cool shade of the building. It must have been her overheated head, but the shed looked a little strange up close. Its bright red walls contrasted with the surroundings. In fact, the color was a little too bright, unnaturally so in this hellscape. Almost as if it was new.

There was nothing beside that shed in front of her, the field behind her, and an abandoned road stretching from horizon to horizon. Who would even need a shed in the middle of nowhere? 

It could possibly be a trap. The Combine had only a rudimentary grasp on human habits, and it was usually easy to spot the slight imperfections in their work; they tended to place odd objects in odd places: a perfectly cooked meal left untouched in the middle of a street, freshly laundered clothing neatly folded on a rooftop. 

The shed fit that category. It was best to make sure she wasn’t getting herself into a battle she had no chance of winning. Sasha stood in front of the entrance, torn between adhering to her paranoia and giving into the exhaustion from such a long journey. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------

59 seconds.

What was taking her so long? The government man adjusted his tie nervously. The target stood just a few paces away, squinting into the dark interior of the shed. Still too far to be killed with dignity.

Was it something about this place that threw her off? He knew it was the only shelter on her way to the Resistance outpost, she had no choice but to rest here. Maybe he could nudge her into stepping inside.

The G-man looked around. There was some trash in the corners, overturned furniture and rusty old barrels. Empty plastic bags here and there. A corpse buried under layers of dust. From the looks of the skeleton, it was an older male. Probably starved to death, poor thing. In short, there was absolutely nothing useful.

Urgent action was needed. The G-man opened the doorknob of reality and, in a practiced movement, slipped through the time-space continuum. 

He morphed back into his corporeal form an indeterminable amount of time later. Just what he needed: early Seven Hour War in the United States. A nondescript city somewhere in Massachusetts defending itself against the Combine invasion: a sad affair doomed to fail. Human bullets ricocheted from the force fields, causing more damage to the human population than the vicious synths. The government man observed the mess of the battle for some time. 

Human blood covered most of the street and squelched under his footsteps. Sometimes he could make out individual bodies, but most of them were too torn, too grinded up to distinguish where one ended and the other began.

The scene reminded him of the invasion of his own homeworld, it was interesting to be witness how adaptive the synths have become at annihilating entire planets. The invasion he lived through lasted almost 70 human years. It was no matter, he wasn’t here to reminisce at the old wounds. 

The government man scanned the dead bodies with rapt attention, until he found what he was looking for: a neat shotgun. He pried it off the corpse’s hands with some difficulty -- the body began to stiffen. Ah, perfect, still loaded. 

He directed the muzzle at his chest with somewhat morbid fascination and childlike sense of wonder: would it hurt? Would this little game finish him off for good? There was always a possibility that his calculations were incorrect, after all. 

He could have just slaughtered Ms. Sokolova as she stood outside the shed. Sometimes his moral code astounded even him: oh, the lengths he would go to just to protect his fragile self-esteem! He held his breath and pulled the trigger.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

The exhaustion slowly but surely eroded her will. That shade looked so pleasantly cool. She felt the corners of her mouth drop and rubbed at her eyes angrily, wiping away tears. There was no time to get soppy. No one but herself would be able to-

**“Help me”.**

Shivers ran up her spine. Sasha was sure there was no one here. Swallowing hard, she reached for her weapons. “H-hello? Who’s here?”

**“Please…”**

She could make out a faint outline of a man crouched low to the ground. His voice was raspy, winded, as if he was in extreme pain. At least she couldn’t detect the tell-tale robotic tone of the Combine.

She took a step closer. There was something about that voice. She could’ve sworn she heard it somewhere before.

\-----------------------------------------------------------  
15 seconds.

This was the most fun the bureaucrat had in ages. Ms. Sokolova took the bait, hook and sinker. He regretted to ruin the shirt, though -- he would need to make a trip into a past once again for a new one. 

But it was so worth it. He wouldn’t even need to step into that sunshine -- no, the target was approaching him, just as he planned. Surely his Employers wouldn’t care how he spent his break, as long as he accomplished his task at a certain point in spacetime. 

10 seconds.

The bullet went straight through his body as if he was a normal human entity. The G-man was both relieved and annoyed at the absence of pain: he wished he could experience a sliver of human life, but it seemed that he still couldn’t get a handle on maintaining his corporal form long enough for getting comfortable with its inner workings. 

It was getting difficult to keep laughter out of his voice, however. 

**"Help me! I am bleeding out!"**

Adding more despair eradicated Ms. Sokolova’s last efforts to appear calm. The woman abandoned all pretense at being stoic and rushed to his side.

Huh?

She was not supposed to come so close. The bureaucrat mentally ground his teeth: again, his game was ruined by the subject’s unscripted behavior. 

What was she doing?

5 seconds.

“Sir! Sir, can you hear me?” The human had the gull to touch his upper body as if she had no fear of death. She carried on, unaware of his shock. “I’ve been looking for you for days! Let me see your wound so I can help you-”

0.1 seconds.

She was...looking for him. As in, she knew who he was.

Impossible. 

0.0 seconds.

It was the G-man’s turn to shiver in fear. Was it the Combine plan all along? He did not want a repeat of the Vault any time soon.

The government man was lost in thought, feeling how she was moving his body around. “-like that, it should stop the bleeding. Now let me check for an exit wound. I was so worried-”. The G-man was for once left completely speechless. 

She could be programmed to capture him or alert the rest of the synths of his location. Maybe she was attaching some sort of a tracker to his body right now. He almost gagged in disgust.

Otherwise, if she was not the Combine, then why did she recognize him? He desperately searched through his past and future memories -- no, she wasn’t in any of them. He was seeing her for the first time today, here, just as specified by his Employers. There was something preventing him from seeing what happened next. 

The G-man felt numb. He was fairly sure the assignment went as expected, he always double checked that sort of thing by seeing through the entire timeline. She was supposed to die moments after seeing him, it was a set point in spacetime, written into the fabric of the universe. He essentially failed his mission. 

No, no, no, this cannot be.

He was authorized to control time in this location. So that’s what he was going to do, go back a few seconds and kill her before she distracted him. 

The government man breathed deeply through his nose -- there was no need to have an emotional outburst over a minor mistake. He stretched his arm towards the passage to the past and pushed.

Nothing happened. 

He frowned. This was probably just a result of his irrational nervousness. The bureaucrat refocused and doubled his mental efforts, throwing all his power behind the push. It was like trying to move a mountain. He recoiled back into his body, now truly terrified of the implications.

The woman kept blabbering some nonsense and, worst of all, kept messing up his clothes in her inane attempts to cure the wound. “-so I had to keep searching for you. Sir, does it hurt when I do this? No? There is so much blood, I-” 

The G-man couldn’t travel to neither the past or the future. Tethered in place, like a moth without wings. It must’ve been Her doing. It was all her, trying to manipulate him into the synth’s trap.   
He couldn’t allow this spectacle to continue. The G-man shoved her off, hard, hearing her yelp as she hit the ground. She was saying something, becoming more and more distressed as he loomed over her. Probably in attempt to distract him further. 

Well, he still could eviscerate her the old fashioned way. The bureaucrat flexed his hand, feeling electricity tingle along his nerves. Static danced around his palm, concentrating in his fingertips until the glow matched his eyes. 

Ms. Sokolova’s frantic speech broke into a scream as he yanked her by the hair, burying his fingernails in her skull to keep her in place, and sent the charge directly into her midbrain.


	2. Promotional Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The G-man may have lost his impeccable reputation but not his spite.

The summer swelter rolled off the fields in waves. Stifling heat radiated off the long-suffering earth as if the nature itself tried to fry the remaining life forms in their skin.

The G-man slowly woke up to the unbearable burning sensation on his face. He cautiously opened his eyes and immediately squeezed them shut -- the damned sun ate through his retina like it was nothing. He groped around, disoriented. 

It hurt to move and even think, he could already feel the impending headache. And that’s in addition to the horrible nausea that somehow tied his insides into a knot -- a new and fun physical sensation he could have done without. He licked his cracked lips in a vain attempt to moisture them. He would give anything for a glass of water right now. 

Eventually the G-man collected enough willpower to stand upright. On somewhat wobbly legs of course, but that’s technicalities. 

Upon further examination, he found out many other things about himself, including, but not limited to: caked blood from the gunshot wound, bruised elbow, and what looked suspiciously like dried vomit all over his suit. Great. At least he didn’t choke on it in his sleep. He scrunched his nose in disgust and looked away. There was something very wrong with him.

What the hell happened? 

Where once stood the shed, now was a crater. Bits and pieces of wood, metal bars and random assortment of materials littered the place. The G-man was in the epicenter of the disaster, as he soon realized. This was bad. Worse than bad, this what a complete and total decimation of his reputation and quite possibly the reason that would get him fired -- slang for slaughtered on the spot. The G-man was doomed. He gulped nervously, trying to regain composure. 

There was no trace of Ms. Sokolova. As if his disgusting appearance, horrible headache and dehydration weren’t enough. He walked around the ruins, looking for anything -- a thread of clothing, a footprint, any indication of where she went. Nothing. It was as if she disappeared into thin air. Like he himself once used to be able to. 

Loath as he was to admit it, the G-man couldn’t access his powers. It was like being a hatchling all over again, except in a rapidly deteriorating, expiring meat suit. He was cut off from the spacetime bending to such an extent that he lost his sense of time. It reminded him too much of his experience in the Vault, this state of being pathetically pinned down to so few dimensions. He would have to start anew, if he survives the inevitable wrath of his Employers. The Combine Vault would probably seem like a vacation on Xen compared to what awaited him once They realized how badly he messed up. 

Again, his thoughts circled back to his inevitable future. Maybe, his fervent mind supplied him, I could run away? For a second, he allowed himself to indulge in the fantasy. He could stop answering Their calls and lay low. Maybe eventually they would assume he died. Maybe he would be remembered with honor. Why not? It would seem as if he perished in a battle, confronting the enemy one-on-one. He could try to pretend to be human and live a few decades more, dying of old age in some resistance outpost.

But deep down the G-man knew it was only a childish fantasy. The Employers had a vast array of searching methods, and some measly low-ranking office plankton wouldn’t fly under the radar so easily. He had witnessed more than once that Their powers were vast and incomprehensible -- coupled with the Shu'ulathoi ability to pursue a goal with uncanny focus and determination, They were practically unstoppable. 

The injustice of it all was what really got him. He wasn’t even slacking on the job! Yes, of course he fooled around a bit but he was going to kill Sokolova right on time. He was prepared. He had accomplished much harder tasks. It wasn’t even his fault that she somehow knew about him, and seemed to possess some of the same abilities as the shu’ulathoi. He didn’t want to fail! 

The bureaucracy had to blink rapidly to stop crying. He always cried when angered and the way it made him feel even more pitiful enraged him.

Why, why in the goddam world did it have to be that human? Be it anyone else and the G-man’s life would be peachy. She wasn’t someone of importance, like Mr. Freeman or Ms. Vance, oh no. Sokolova was just a puny human, average, mediocre, idiotic, annoying-

“Fuck!”

The G-man realized he began running only after tripping on some rocks. He regained his balance just in time to narrowingly avoid slamming his face into dirt. He had to devise a plan, or at least do something, anything, to escape the punishment. Logically he already knew he would never be able to escape, but his body still haven't caught up to the idea. He would most likely be dead, or worse, by tomorrow in the latest. 

He collapsed on his knees, breathing hard. Think. What could he do to appease his Employers enough to hold onto his job? He could, potentially, beg to be given another chance. It would be deeply humiliating, but he could do it. He already hit the rock bottom, and there was no other way but up. 

They were searching for him, he could feel it even without the powers. The things seemed slightly off, as if they were a glitch in the matrix. The cloudless sky appeared to collapse inward before warping back into shape. His shadow circled around him like the hands of a clock. It was over. They were calling him.

The bureaucrat twisted his hands, desperate beyond measure for anything that would save his ass. His Employers would be able to find him, no matter where he went. He wouldn’t even get far in his current condition. The further he delayed, the more annoyed They would be with him. 

The G-man couldn’t come up with anything but answering Them. Maybe if he voluntarily admitted his failures before his Employers got the full picture of events, he could paint himself in a better light.

There was no time to think. He wiped away stray tears, straightened his tie and tried to make himself presentable. 

______________________________________________________________

Familiar black void wrapped around him like a cocoon. He hasn’t realized how jarring it must’ve felt for humans until now, this oppressive silence and simultaneous absence and presence of harsh light. 

" **Explain yourself,** "demanded the voice, not bothering with laws of human physics and appearing directly inside his mind. The dreadful voice of his Manager.

“There were some unforeseen circumstances at play…,” the G-man began, then hesitated. He needed to tread lightly. “I suspect the target was modified in ways we haven’t thought possible.”

Although the G-man couldn’t see anything besides the endless void, he felt his hairs stand of end as the Manager crawled closer. He hoped it was at least interested in whatever he had to say, after all his failed mission would reflect on its reputation as well. 

The G-man continued, not daring to stop. “She demonstrated awareness of my nature on multiple instances, was somehow able to dampen my ability to travel, survived a shock wave and the following biochemical cascade. Not only that, she deflected it in retaliation, which suggests advanced telekinesis in the least, if not full proficiency with it.” 

Nothing but silent judgement in answer. This was a bad sign, because the G-man had no idea if his report was of value to the entity, or if his fate was already determined. Desperate for a reaction, the G-man blurted his suspicions: “She may have access to shu’ulathoi technology, and for all we know the Alliance could’ve discovered the dormant ones.” 

Again, silence. His words hung awkwardly in the void, as if he was talking to himself this entire time. It was preposterous to expect anything else -- after all, the mature shu’ulathoi were much lower in status than the grubs, and were treated accordingly. The G-man’s hard work may have earned him some respect, but he would be treated as a second-class citizen in the end, just some replaceable tool the higher-ups could discard at will.

He could no longer sense the Manager’s presence. It probably was busy consulting with the higher-ups.   
The G-man floated in the void, suspended between spacetime continuum, while his anxieties ate at him. The uncertainty was terrifying. Maybe he could have demonstrated greater control over the situation, projected some confidence at being able to defeat the target? No, his Employers would sense falsehoods a mile away. Maybe he should have really begged first, then reported later. No turning back now. 

He remembered how disheveled he looked. The grubs were disgusted with him wearing a human body in the first place, but were peculiar about him taking care of it. Sometimes They fussed over the smallest things, like whether he shined the shoes or shaved. The G-man cringed internally at how badly he damaged the body this time. It was the government property and he went ahead and ruined it. 

After awhile -- difficult to tell in these circumstances -- the Manager returned. It circled around him, fading in and out of existence. The G-man instantly regretted using that same intimidation tactic on Alyx Vance. He felt like a bug about to be squashed. 

“ **We can’t afford to spend resources on another one like you. Too much was already invested, as you are well aware. Hence the good news: I am not authorized to fire you. Yet.** ” The Manager flickered its limbs in annoyance. Then crawled closer, pushing its energy field around the G-man until he felt his capillaries start to burst. 

“Please-”

“ **The bad news is that I cannot change your assignment. You still need to find the target and destroy her before she reaches the resistance. You are already damaged enough that the loss of further functions wouldn’t be so significant.** ” It looked at him a moment longer before releasing its hold. The G-man fell, cradling his head. 

“ **Confirm.** ”

“I understand. I can do it this time, I swear,” the bureaucrat nodded frantically. He could feel contempt rolling of the Manager in waves, it wasn’t trying to hide how badly it wanted to be rid of him. 

“ **Good.** ”

The space began to warp once more, signalling the end of his questioning. Past and future places, people and actions began to flash around him as the Manager’s gaping maw faded into black.

“ **Kiss your paycheck goodbye.** ”

The G-man could feel pressure gathering around, making his ears pop from intensity. Oh, so it was going to send him back the old-fashioned way. How petty of it. At least he never used that method with the humans, even Gordon Freeman no matter how much the physicist vexed him. His body briefly imploded, twisted outwards, and then was slingshot halfway across the galaxy to the miserable piece of rock called Earth.

The landing hurt, badly, but not as bad as his self-esteem. To be thrown around like that, as if he was a mere temp… Whatever the promotional disaster that was, the G-man could still make things right. He would find Sokolova. He would get his reputation back. And he would get that paycheck, no matter the cost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for making this chapter a little short. I am experimenting with the format a bit, let me know if you prefer longer ones with multiple scenes or short ones!


End file.
